I Ought to Be in Pictures
by comixguy
Summary: A film crew comes to Gotham City to make a movie about the Joker. Guess who tries out for the lead. (New Material added)


Disclaimer: "Batman" and all related characters are owned by DC Comics. "Batman" is created by Bob Kane.  
  
I Ought to Be in Pictures  
Prelude  
The trucks were loaded up with the insecticide spray and the gas tanks were full. Bob and Ray were getting ready to go out into the night and continue their war against mosquitoes in the residential districts of Gotham City.  
"All ready to kill us some vermin?" Bob asked.  
Ray could smell the liver sausage and onion sandwich Bob had for lunch as he pretended to laugh at the lame joke.  
Suddenly there was a knock on the garage door. "Who could that be?" Ray wondered.  
"I hope it's the anchovy pizza I ordered," Bob was practically drooling down his chin.  
"Yeah, because you need to have even worse breath. What are you trying to do, kill mosquitoes by exhaling on them?"  
Bob opened the door, and a shadowy feminine figure entered.  
Ray asked, "Can we help you?"  
The curvy shadow spoke up, "That all depends. Do either of you boys have a light?"  
Ray answered, "I'm sorry. There's no smoking in here."  
The shadow slipped a hand inside the oversize trench coat she wore. "That's okay; I don't smoke. I need a light for my little firecracker here."  
The two men gasped as the shadowy figure pulled out an enormous Roman candle with a sparkling fuse. She threw it to the middle of the room, and thick green gas poured out of the Roman candle.  
Bob and Ray started coughing and suddenly began laughing uncontrollably. Their lips started pulling up on the sides baring their teeth and the muscles froze into a rigid smile. As their faces froze into grotesque smiles, the laughing stopped. Clearly both men were unconscious.  
"Everything's ready, Mistah J." The shadow pulled off her trench coat revealing a skin tight red jester's uniform. The shadow stepped into the light and revealed herself to be Dr. Harley Quinzelle-aka Harley Quinn.  
Another figure entered at that point. A figure wearing a purple tuxedo with tails, a green shirt, a black string tie, and an orange vest stepped over the unconscious truck drivers. Underneath a mane of green hair was a pale white face and blood red lips frozen in a ghastly smile similar to the ones on the truck drivers. There was no mistaking the Joker. He laughed all the while as he entered and surveyed the room.  
Harley Quinn said, "Your plan went like clock work, Puddin'."  
"Of course it did, Harley girl," the Joker said as he admired the scene. "That's why I'm the criminal genius."  
Two henchmen followed the Joker. They were each wearing clown make up.  
"Are the tanks ready to be hooked up to the trucks, boys?"  
"Sure thing, Boss," one of the henchmen said.  
"Take off those giant cans of Raid, and hook up my own special brand of insecticide. We've got bigger pests to get rid of than mosquitoes tonight. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!"  
As the henchmen went to hook the vats of Smilex Gas to the sprayer trucks, a voice called out of the shadows.  
"Cut. Print that."  
A bell rang announcing the scene was cut.  
Clive Davison, sitting in his director's chair, continued, "Okay, everyone, that's a wrap for today. See you all tomorrow."  
Paul Hendriks, who was dressed as the Joker, broke out of character. "Thank God. I can get this goop off my face. These prosthetic lips are really starting to itch."  
Sarah Douvey removed the black eye mask and her jester's hat. "I don't know what you're complaining about. You get your name above the credits, you get the movie named after your character, and you get to do something interesting. The only thing I get to do is act like a psycho bimbo. Do you know how many of my lines are nothing more than just saying, 'Here you go, Mistah J.' 'What's the next move, Puddin'?' What's up with this chick, anyway?"  
Paul's voice dripped with sarcasm, "I don't know; you think maybe she's crazy? At least you don't have four hours in the makeup chair to look like this."  
The actors moved off still complaining.  
Bruce Wayne stood slightly behind Davison's director's chair.  
Davison asked him, "Well, Mister Wayne, what do you think?"  
Bruce attempted to keep his voice calm. "I'm a little confused, Clive. When the Wayne Foundation agreed to give you that grant, I thought it was so you could make a movie about Gotham City."  
Davison stood up and went over to the coffee pot on a table and poured himself a cup. "This is a movie about Gotham City."  
"It looks like a movie about the Joker."  
Davison stirred creamer into his coffee. "Bruce, can I call you Bruce? Bruce, Gotham City happens to be a place full of freaks. Everybody knows that. And the biggest freak of all is the Joker. It's impossible to be true to what's going on in Gotham and not deal with freaks. Wait'll you see the guy I hired to play the Bat."  
"You're putting Batman in this movie too?"  
"Of course," Davison said as he took a sip of coffee. "How can you have a story about the Joker and not have the Batman? I think he's as much of a freak as these so called super villains he rounds up."  
"I just think some people might not like seeing the Joker exploited in this way." Bruce said.  
"Who's going to complain?"  
A hint of a threat was in Bruce's voice, "The Joker for one."  
"Hah, like anyone's going to care about a wackjob serial killer. Besides, he's safely tucked away at Arkham Asylum."  
A shadow fell over Bruce's face. "He's been known to escape from Arkham before."  
Davison grabbed a doughnut. "You worry too much. Your Foundation was good enough to get me the grant to make this movie; you just have to trust me that I know what I'm doing." He walked away.  
A scowl tugged at Bruce Wayne's face. "Let's hope that's true."  
  
Chapter One  
  
Arkham Asylum stood on a hill overlooking Gotham City. It looked more like a haunted house than a hospital. The gothic turrets were even more ominous looking on nights like this as lightning slashed through the rain and thunder boomed like a portent of evil.  
Inside the main Recreation Room, a television was playing quietly. Classical music was piped over the loudspeakers; some previous administrator said it would calm the inmates. A game of Ping Pong was going on in the background.  
Gathered around the small TV set was a virtual who's who of Gotham's most dangerous criminals. The local media dubbed them "freaks." Now they were wearing the pale green hospital pajamas common to each of the inmates.  
  
Harvey Dent, known as Two Face, was sitting closest to the screen. Suddenly, the Joker changed the channel to the local cable news channel.  
"What's the idea, Clown?" Two Face turned his half ruined face toward the Joker. "I wanted to watch the nightly movie-It's Double Indemnity."  
The Joker decided to play his eternal game of baiting the former District Attorney. "You need to expand what passes for your brain and watch the news. How else will you know what's going on in the world?"  
"I'll give you to the count of two to turn the movie back on, or I'll be glad to break your neck. Twice," snarled Two Face.  
"Would you gums pipe down?" said Scarface, a dummy built to look like an old time gangster. He was the alter ego of a shy psychopath known only as the Ventriloquist. "I want to hear if there's any news agout someone whackin' the Gatman."  
"There you go, Harv," said the Joker. "It's two against one for the news. Sounds like your kind of majority."  
Two Face slumped into his chair.  
On the television, Summer Gleason was reporting on the day's events. "And famed director Clive Davison has come to Gotham City to film his biopic of the infamous criminal known only as The Joker."  
Two Face scowled with both sides of his face. "Why is it that the only one of us who ever gets any press is you?"  
The Joker grinned even wider than normal. "Style over substance wins out every time."  
"Sources close to the film say that the performance of actor Paul Hendricks in the title role makes a better Joker than the real Joker."  
"WHAT?!" The Joker nearly knocked over the end table as he jumped out of his chair.  
Jervis Tetch, also known as The Mad Hatter, was drawn to the commotion. "Do you mind? I'm trying to have my tea over here."  
Two Face taunted the Joker, "It looks like there're two of you now, Clown."  
One of the orderlies yelled, "Hey, keep it down over there, or it's a valium nightcap for all of you."  
On the screen Summer Gleason was finishing her newscast. "This just in. There was a daring breakout at Gotham City's Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane tonight. It appears the only inmate to escape was The Joker. More details as they become available. This is Summer Gleason, WGBS News."  
Two Face turned to the Joker. "What's she talking about a breakout and the Joker escaping?"  
"Stay tuned, Harv. You'll find out in five.four.three.two.one."  
Suddenly, the east wall of the Recreation Room exploded. Five men wearing clown makeup rode motorcycles through the hole in the wall. They had machine guns in each hand. All the inmates dove for cover except the Joker.  
Then Harley Quinn rode in on a huge motorcycle. "Your ride's here, Puddin'."  
The Joker approached his psychopathic girlfriend. "Ah, It's Harley on a Harley. Quite poetic of you, I must say."  
"Hop on, Mistah J. It's time I took you for a ride."  
The Joker looked back at the baffled Asylum staff and inmates as he mounted the motorcycle behind Harley. "Sorry to run out on your hospitality, but I've got things to do and people to kill. Ta."  
And with a laugh echoing through the night, the Joker was gone.  
Outside thunder clapped.  
  
Chapter Two  
  
The Gotham City Plaza Hotel towered over Robinson Park. It was a testament to the opulence that had characterized this city before crime began taking over. Only the richest of the rich could afford to stay in this bastion of luxury. The upper floors, especially, were reserved primarily for oil magnates, leaders of Middle Eastern countries, and show business people.  
Clive Davison was currently sleeping on satin sheets in his suite on the top floor. Outside his windows the lights of Gotham City contrasted with the flashes of lightning still lighting up the night sky. Davison slept on as the storm raged; it could be that the glass of Port he had before retiring helped him do this. He was always known as a sound sleeper. So it was no surprise he didn't hear his security windows being pried open from the outside or the shadowy figure dressed in gray and black stepping into the room.  
The figure gathered up his long, pointed cape and quietly walked over to stand by Davison's bed side. Davison stirred slightly as people do when something or someone is watching them sleep.  
A sudden clap of thunder roared as lightning lit up the dark figure standing by the bed. This brought Clive fully awake to face the grim visage of the Batman.  
Davison let out a yell and sprang up in bed. "Who? Oh, it's you. How did you get in here?"  
Batman's raspy voice added to his frightening image. "I was in the neighborhood; I thought I'd drop by."  
"What do you want? I'm afraid I don't need any new actors right now."  
"I'm not auditioning. I'm here to warn you about the movie you're making."  
Davison relaxed slightly. "Oh, that. I suppose you're a charter member of the Sympathy for the Joker Club too?"  
"You have no idea what you're getting involved in. The Joker isn't going to like anyone making a movie about him without his involvement."  
"And that's supposed to concern me how?"  
"The Joker may decide to take his frustration out on you."  
Davison scoffed, "I've handled studio heads; I think I can take care of a clown."  
Batman let an edge of anger creep into his voice. "The Joker isn't just a clown. He's a homicidal maniac."  
"You'll forgive me if I ignore you and go back to sleep? I've done research for writing the script for this Joker movie. I think the threat he poses is just exaggerated."  
Batman frowned beneath his mask. "I'm glad you've done your homework, but I've been fighting the Joker for years. If anything the threat the Joker poses is greater than you can imagine. He's totally unpredictable. He's controlled by the impulses of his insanity."  
"That's believable," scoffed Davison, "considering it's coming from a man dressed as a flying rodent."  
"I think you're making the biggest mistake of your life. It may be your last mistake."  
"I'll keep that in mind. Now good night."  
As lightning flashed again, Davison was momentarily blinded. When his vision cleared, the Batman was gone and the hotel curtains fluttered in the breeze from the open window.  
"I wonder how he does that. Jerk."  
Davison slept fitfully the rest of the night.  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Chrissie DeHaan was walking back to her dorm room after working on her project for Biology 101. She looked at her watch and saw that it was nearly 2:00 A.M. She had no idea she had been working so long. Her eyes felt as if someone had poured grains of sand into them. But one way or another, she was going to ace this class. That would show all of her friends she left behind in Smallville that she'd made the right choice in matriculating to Gotham State University.  
All the co-eds had warned her about walking alone at night in a place like Gotham City. But she was sure that the entire campus was sleeping at this hour; no self-respecting attacker would be skulking about.  
At least the thunderstorm had finally moved on. Now all she had to do was make it the few blocks back to her dorm room and crash without even taking off her street clothes. She was too tired to worry about putting on her T-shirt and flannel sleep pants.  
Chrissie was occupied with thoughts of her bed when a hand reached out and clamped over her mouth. Chrissie felt cold, sharp steel against her throat.  
"Well, well, well," came a voice behind her as she attempted to yell beneath the large hand, "it looks like someone's been ignoring the buddy system. Don't worry. I'll be happy to be your buddy. It's time to play."  
Chrissie attempted to kick the big, smelly guy in the shines, but he had his legs positioned just out of reach. The knife pressed harder against her throat and started to draw blood.  
"Oh, good. I got a lively one. I just love a spunky playmate."  
As tears came to Chrissie's eyes, the man was forcing her into the entryway of the English building. It looked as if her friends in Smallville were going to talk about Chrissie after all; more than likely at her funeral.  
The man turned Chrissie around to face him. His face was hidden by a ski mask. The hand holding the knife moved from her throat and his arm was raising to plunge the knife into her.  
Chrissie held back her sobs and closed her eyes waiting for the end to come. She heard a howl of pain. It took her a moment to realize the howl wasn't from her but from her attacker.  
Chrissie opened her eyes to see the man's arm thrash around. There were six small, bat-shaped objects sticking out of it. The man was howling even louder.  
Suddenly the attacker grabbed her with his now bleeding arm and held her in front of him like a shield. The knife was back at her throat. The guy must have an amazing tolerance for pain, Chrissie thought, surprised at where her mind went at a time like this.  
"All right, Bat-Freak. I've been waiting for you. I don't think you're as tough as people say. Let's find out, or I'll cut her."  
Nothing happened. The silence was worse than the man's yelling earlier.  
"You've got till five or she gets a second smile. One, two, three, f."  
As the man stopped counting, Chrissie saw a figure emerge from the shadows. He was dressed in a black costume with a dark blue emblem on his chest. A mask was covering his eyes, and long, black hair spilled down his face.  
"The way I see it, you've got two choices," Nightwing said. "1. You let her go, and I take you in. 2. You put up a fight, and I hurt you and then take you in. Choose one. Choose the second option."  
The man threw Chrissie to the ground and lunged at Nightwing with the knife. "I thought you were the Bat. Now I see you're just a doofus in a costume who's going to be known as Corpse Man."  
Nightwing easily sidestepped the knife. With his left hand he grabbed the man's arm. His right elbow came smashing down and broke the attacker's arm in three places.  
As he fell to the sidewalk in agony, Nightwing kicked out and broke the attacker's jaw. The attacker then fell to the sidewalk, unconscious.  
Nightwing waited for a second to clamp a pair of Bat Cuffs on Ski- Mask's wrists. He didn't envy the pain the man would have when he woke up. Then Nightwing turned to Chrissie who was still in shock.  
"Are you all right?"  
Chrissie remembered that she could talk. "Y-yes."  
"I called the campus police before I dropped in. They should be here in a few minutes. Stay here and tell them how this guy attacked you. He won't be in any shape to hurt you or anyone for a while. And don't be out alone at night. After all, this is Gotham City, not Smallville."  
With that Nightwing pulled out his Bat Grapple, shot out a line of rope, and disappeared to the rooftops.  
The sound of sirens was moving closer.  
  
Nightwing watched the campus police take Chrissie's statement and haul the ski-masked attacker away. Underneath the mask he was no more than 18; it was hard to see kids go bad.  
Nightwing sensed the presence behind him. He spoke without turning around.  
"I wondered if you were going to help me with that mope."  
Batman smiled slightly. "You looked like you had things well in hand."  
Nightwing turned and faced his mentor. "Well, I had a good teacher. What brings you out to this part of town?"  
Batman turned all business again. "We have a situation. You've heard about Clive Davison?"  
"The guy making the movie about The Joker."  
"Exactly. Gordon called me in earlier tonight. Joker's escaped from Arkham again."  
"And I can guess where he's headed."  
Batman turned in the direction of the Gotham Plaza Hotel. "I went to Davison's room tonight and tried to warn him. He wasn't taking the threat The Joker posed to be serious. I'm afraid he's going to find out the hard way."  
Nightwing walked closer to Batman. "So this is where we come in. We find Joker before he breaks into show biz."  
"I've got Batgirl and Robin standing by in the cave. I wanted to ask for your help before I went back. We've got to take Joker back to Arkham."  
"Count me in. You got the Batmobile parked close by?"  
"It's in the alley a few blocks away. I'll give you a ride."  
Nightwing had named the car the Batmobile when he was twelve years old when he started out as the first Robin. Batman preferred to call it just "The Car," but most people preferred the flashier name young Dick Grayson gave it. Batman had had to get used to the name.  
"Okay, then. Let's go."  
Both crime fighters pulled out their Bat Grapples and shot a line to the next closest building and swung over the rooftops. 


End file.
